


take me home (forever and ever)

by duchessy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Childhood Friends, Domestic Bliss, Established Relationship, Established Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Fluff, M/M, Moving In Together, extremely sweet, they're so in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:33:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25420192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duchessy/pseuds/duchessy
Summary: At the very bottom of the box, there’s a single piece of paper, slightly wrinkled from sitting underneath all the other things in the box and somehow surviving the move from Steve’s old house to college and now to their apartment (their apartment!).Tony recognizes it immediately. The patchy blue sky, scribbled green grass, vaguely rectangular boxes meant to resemble the many highrises of New York City, and of course, the distinct green blob that is the Statue of Liberty in the background that Tony had recognized even as a 4-year-old.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 7
Kudos: 124





	take me home (forever and ever)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [it's nice to have a friend](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20729222) by [imposterhuman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imposterhuman/pseuds/imposterhuman). 



> based on taylor swift's "it's nice to have a friend" and "lover." i just really got in my feels at 2 AM after watching chris evans in the perfect score and stumbling upon a scene pack of rdj in johnny be good right after and and this was the result. hope you're all staying as safe and healthy!

Tony just wants to go home. 

He doesn’t think he’s been at his new school for very long, because the big hand on the clock has only moved to 6, but it was at 12 when he’d last looked at his Mom’s watch when he was holding her hand as they’d walked into school together. Tony tries to remember what Jarvis had taught him about time last week, but he forgot. 

Tony turns to ask the blonde boy who’s sitting at the desk next to him. His name card is already peeling off his shirt and Tony thinks he can make out some of his name. S….T...E…. He can’t see the rest. Tony hopes his name is Stella, because Jarvis had read him a story about a bat named Stellaluna and he thinks it’s the best name that he’s ever heard. His Dad would probably say that boys can’t be named Stella because it’s a girl's name, but Tony thinks anyone can have a pretty name. 

The boy who might be named Stella has a bright blue crayon in his fist that he scribbles onto the page their teacher had given them a little while ago to draw on. Tony can’t tell what he’s drawing from his spot, but the boy seems like he knows exactly what he wants on the page. Tony wishes he could be that sure about anything.

“Excuse me, please?” Tony says, after a few minutes of working up the courage to talk to him. The boy turns to him with a slight frown, and Tony suddenly wishes he hadn’t said anything at all because he’s probably bothering him like he bothers his Dad when he plays too loudly. 

“Yeah?” The boys says, turning to look at Tony properly. He’s very small and his eyes are very blue. 

“Do, do you know what time it is?” Tony asks him quietly, his thumb picking at the skin around his fingernail even though his mom would probably slap his hand away if she was here. 

The boy’s face scrunches up at the question and turns to the big white clock on the wall. The big hand’s at the 8 now, but Tony doesn’t remember what that means or how long they have until he can go home again with Jarvis. 

“I dunno,” the boy says, squinting his eyes at the clock like he was making it tell him what time it was. “My Ma said the bell rings at 3 o’clock and then all the parents come and get us.”

Tony thinks about this. “When’s 3 o’clock?” he asks, feeling like it was awful late. What did Jarvis and Ana and Mom and Dad do for all that time?

The boy’s mouth twists up as he also thinks about this. He shrugs. “I dunno,” he says, not looking bothered by the fact that he’s going to be at school for so many hours. “Hey, wanna go play Legos after?”

Tony looks up at him, surprised. No one’s ever asked him to play with them before. He’s nodding before he thinks about it too much, and he’s smiling for the first time since he got to school when the boy smiles wide with all his teeth showing. 

He sticks his hand out. “My name is Tony,” he doesn’t say his last name, because some of the kids in his class had whispered really loudly and stared at him when his name was called in roll call. He knows his family is famous, but he doesn’t really understand why. His Dad isn’t in movies or anything. 

The boy looks surprised to see Tony’s hand held out like that, but he slowly fits his hand into Tony’s and shakes it. His grip is not firm like Tony’s Dad said it should be so that people take him seriously, and the boy’s hand is sweaty. 

“I’m Steve,” he says, letting go of Tony’s hand and turning back to his drawing. He pauses and then looks at Tony again. “Wanna see my drawing? Ma says I’m real good.”

“Yes, please,” Tony says, eagerly scooting forward in his chair to get a good look at Steve’s drawing. 

It’s so nice that Tony thinks it should be in one of those fancy art galleries his parents took him to sometimes. He tells Steve so, and he smiles big at Tony.

“You really think so?”

Tony nods his head so hard he thinks it might actually fall off like Jarvis says it would if it wasn’t screwed onto his head. “I know so! It looks better than the stuff they have there.”

“I’m gonna be an artist when I grow up. My Ma says I can do whatever I wanna do,” Steve says, looking down at his drawing proudly. 

Tony wishes he could also do whatever he wants to do when he’s a grown-up. He wants to be a butler like Jarvis and help people do things in their homes, but he doesn’t think his Dad would like that very much. 

“I think you’re gonna be famous, Steve,” Tony says, peering down at the blue sky and the green grass and the gray boxes with squares in them and the green lady in the background which Tony knows is the Statue of Liberty from his history book that Jarvis had got him for Christmas. 

Steve looks really happy to hear this. He puts his crayon down and picks up Tony’s hand, suddenly looking shy. “You’re really cool, Tony. Do you wanna be friends?”

Tony feels so happy he thinks he might explode like a supernova in outer space. “Yeah! Let’s be friends.”

The drawing is quickly forgotten by the both of them, but Tony remembers to tell Steve to bring it home to his Ma when the bell rings at the end of the day.

16 years later, Tony’s ready to collapse on the air mattress that their friends had blown up for them before they’d left his and Steve’s apartment for the night. 

His and Steve’s apartment. They had an apartment. Together. 

Tony still kind of felt like he was living in his 10-year-old self’s dream sometimes. But then Steve would stop by his dorm room with takeout from their favourite Thai restaurant at the end of a long day or Tony would catch him talking to DUM-E softly when he thought Tony was still asleep, and he doesn’t think that even his 10-year-old self could come up with a dream so perfect. 

He’s only unpacked ten boxes so far, and he’d promised Steve that he’d find out where they’d put their dishes before he got back from the pizza place. Tony lifts open the flaps to the eleventh box stacked on top of several other similar boxes all over the living room floor. 

Tony breaks out into a wide grin when he finds the frame made of very colourful macaroni with a hand-drawn picture of Steve and a stick figure which Tony thinks is supposed to be Sarah with the words “I LOVE YOU MA” scribbled underneath the drawing in large, lopsided letters. 

He carefully places the frame on the ground next to the box and digs deeper. Out comes the heart-shaped sunglasses that Tony had accidentally brought back home from kindergarten after goofing around playing dress-up with Steve on their second day of school. 

Tony’s fingers find something very soft and he pulls out one single, tiny mitten, his mind dragging him back to one day after school when he’d been allowed to spend a couple of hours at Steve’s house. They’d walked home together slowly wading through the knee-high snow that had covered the sidewalk. Tony had lost his expensive mittens and hadn’t wanted to tell his parents so he’d stubbornly stuck his little hands into his pockets and tried to ignore how they were starting to go numb in the cold. Steve had noticed (of course he had) and had tried to give him both of his own mittens. Tony had protested and they’d eventually come to a compromise of each having one mitten and then lacing their bare hands together to keep warm. 

This must’ve been Steve’s remaining mitten. Tony can’t believe he’s kept it for so long. 

At the very bottom of the box, there’s a single piece of paper, slightly wrinkled from sitting underneath all the other things in the box and somehow surviving the move from Steve’s old house to college and now to their apartment (their apartment!). 

Tony recognizes it immediately. The patchy blue sky, scribbled green grass, vaguely rectangular boxes meant to resemble the many highrises of New York City, and of course, the distinct green blob that is the Statue of Liberty in the background that Tony had recognized even as a 4-year-old. 

His vision goes a little blurry and he’s all choked up when the front door opens and Steve walks inside. 

“Hey, babe, they didn’t have any Hawaiian ‘cause they were about to close, but I got pepperoni with pineapple, because I know how much of a heathen you are,” Steve says as he makes his way closer. “What’s that?” he asks, catching sight of all the stuff Tony’s pulled out of the box. 

Tony turns to him, ready to tell him off for getting him all weepy over a 4-year-old’s depiction of the Big Apple. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Steve says when he sees the state Tony’s in. Then he sees the drawing that Tony’s got clutched tightly in his hand. “Oh my god, is that--?

“Yeah, it is,” Tony mumbles, reaching out to Steve, wrapping his free arm around his neck and pulling him close. “Remember how we met?”

Steve wraps his arms around him and brushes his lips against Tony’s temple. “How could I forget?”

Tony pulls back to look at him, blinking hard. “I asked you for the time.”

Steve chuckles. “You asked me for the time.”

“You said that we should be friends,” Tony says, bringing his hand up to the side of Steve’s face, stroking his bottom lip with his thumb. “Then 15 years later you asked me to be your husband.”

“Yeah, I did,” Steve replies softly, holding Tony as close to his chest as was bodily possible. “I guess some part of me knew. All those years ago.”

Tony chuckles wetly, watching the way Steve’s very blue eyes caught the shine of the Christmas lights they’d strung up as soon as they’d arrived in the morning even though it was the middle of July, because they could. This was their home now. 

“I love you, Steve. So much.”

Steve leans forward until their foreheads are pressed up against each other. “I love you, Tony. I go where you go, right?”

“Yeah, always. And now, we’re home.”


End file.
